


Same Time Next Year

by tjs_whatnot



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years later, Pacey and Jen renegotiate the Friends With Benefits agreement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Time Next Year

**Author's Note:**

> Story line shamelessly borrowed from a 1980s movie of the same name, with a few variations, of course. Beta read by the lovely Cookie Laura. Remaining mistakes are all my own.

**November 29, 2002**

 

“Thanks for the ride,” Jennifer Lindley said as she opened the door of Pacey Witter’s BMW.

“Not a problem,” Pacey replied. “For I have found that if you are going somewhere you don’t want to go, it’s best to do it with someone whose company you enjoy.”

Jenn smiled sadly. “I agree. But tell me, why is it that you don’t want to be going back to Capeside?”

“For all the reasons I left in the first place. What about you?”

She shrugged. “I just need to get away for a bit and Capeside seems like as good a place as any.”

“I don’t know which of us is sadder.”

“I think I win. You at least have a way to get where you don’t want to go.”

“This is true,” he said as he got in and started the car.

Two hours later as they sat on the side of an old highway, smoke billowing from the car’s hood, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckitty-fuck!” he cursed as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Jen didn’t say anything.

He got out and attempted to open the hood, but even with gloves on, it was too hot. “God- fucking- dammit!” he shouted.

She got out calmly. “So…what you are saying is: we’re fucked?”

“Royally, yes.”

She held up her cell phone. “Even more so than previously believed.”

He looked at her in horror. “No service?”

“What sort of world would it be if we had a way out?”

He leaned against the driver’s side door and groaned. “Perfect. Just fuckin’ perfect.”

“It could be worse.”

“How?”

“You could be out here alone.”

He smiled. “Yes, true, this is better.”

“Luckily for you, I also have better legs than you.” She walked around the car and pulled at her skirt, sticking her thumb out.

He looked at her and tried not to smile. “Jennifer Lindley, educated feminist, are you _suggesting_ that you are going to use your feminine wiles to procure us a ride? Aren’t you like majoring in Women’s Studies? Isn’t this a huge no-no?”

I won’t tell if you don’t,” she said with a shrug. “Besides it’s one of the few advantages women have to men; don’t take it away from me.”

He smiled and held up his hands. “By all means, work that advantage.”

Five minutes later and they were back on the road. Jen looked at Pacey smugly before turning to the driver of the pick-up truck.

“Thanks again. I don’t know what my brother and I would have done without you.” Pacey elbowed her but she continued. “We were hoping to get the last ferry to the Vineyard, but it looks like we’ll miss it now.”

“You guys visiting family?”

“Yeah, you know how it is, Thanksgiving at Mother’s in Boston, the rest of the weekend on Father’s yacht for the last sail of the year.”

The man touched the brim of his baseball cap. “Must be nice.”

“It’s a frightful bore, really. But we mustn’t disappoint the family.”

“Yes, what with the unplanned pregnancy…” Pacey said.

“And the flunking out of school…” Jen added.

“It was the least we could do. But now, well, I guess we’ll miss that ferry.”

“Yes, sadly we’ll just have to stay here tonight.”

They smiled at each other, both seeing the silver lining.

The man looked awkwardly at them from the corner of his eye but said nothing as he drove to the nearest garage. While Pacey dealt with the shop and their exorbitant charge for a tow truck, Jen went to find them a place to stay. They met in front of what must have been the most charming Bed and Breakfast in all of Massachusetts.

“They won’t have the part until Monday. You cool with staying that long?” he asked as he met her on the wrap-around porch.

“I am. Remember how we were brother and sister back there?”

“Yeah,” Pacey answered slowly.

“Well, now we’re newlyweds, let’s go.” She grabbed his hand and his protest died on his lips. It had been a long time since he’d seen her so alive and if adventure made her giddy than he could certainly play along.

Then they walked into the newlywed suite. “Oh my God.”

Jen ran around the room laughing hysterically from one over the top, gaudy cliché to another while Pacey stood in the middle of the pink and red-rosed room and repeated. “Oh my God.”

“I know, right? It’s perfect! Couldn’t ask for a more perfect newlywed suite even if we actually were newlyweds. I mean, look, a heart shaped tub! How does one even find a heart shaped tub?”

“At the cheesy clichéd Bed and Breakfast supply store?”

“It’s glorious!”

“It’s definitely _something_ ,” Pacey agreed.

“I think we should come back every year to celebrate our anniversary.”

“Deal.”

That night after families had been called, excuses made, a fire started and rose petals gathered off the bed, they lay there and talked - really talked - for the first time in a very long time. They talked about college or the lack of it, they talked about relationships and the lack of them, and then they talked about the past.

“Pacey, can you believe it was only three years ago when we drank the Witches Brew and tried to have a fling?”

Pacey barked a laugh. “Wow. I had forgotten that. How dumb were we?”

Jen looked slightly hurt. “How?”

“That we never actually did any, you know, flinging in our fling.”

Jen laughed. “We are the worst flingers.”

“We really are.”

There was a long silence before they both said together: “Although…”

They looked at each other shyly.

“We could,” Jen said.

“We totally could.”

“We are in the right room for it.”

“It would be almost sacrilege to _not,_ ” Pacey added.

“True. I mean, if we were characters in one of Dawson’s dramas we’d probably be naked by now.”

They laughed, then the room got very quiet again.

“So,” Pacey begun, sitting up and criss- crossing his legs so to face Jen who also sat up. “Should we re-negotiate the Pre-Getting-It-On Agreement?”

“We could. Or… maybe we could do that after? Maybe our problem last time was that we talked too much.”

“Us? Talk too much? Surely not,” Pacey said, smirking.

Jen took his hands in hers. “Maybe we could just say what it is we want from this weekend and we’ll discuss the rest later. How does that sound?”

“Splendid,” Pacey answered, rubbing his thumb along her wrist’s pressure point. “You first.”

“What do I want from this weekend? The same thing I wanted when I started; to get away. Get away from my life, from who I am in this place in time, to become someone else. And if it’s just for this weekend, if we could just have this one weekend in this one life that will be okay with me. But, I really want it, and I really want it with you.”

“So you need an escape?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Do you want to talk about what it is you’re escaping from?”

“No. That wouldn’t really be escaping, now would it? That would be revisiting and this is not the place and time for that. Instead, tell me what it is that you want from this weekend?”

Pacey thought for a minute. “I want to feel connected to someone. Whether that be physically, sexually or not doesn’t matter, not really. I just want one moment where I matter the most, where I am the most loved. And I know that sounds pathetic and if it were anyone but you, I’d be ashamed to admit it, but it is you and I trust you… and so I want it to be you.”

She reached her hand out and stroked her fingers along his temple and down his cheek before rubbing her thumb along his chin. “I want to kiss you now.”

“I really want you to,” he whispered back, but then he pulled back. “But first, come here.”

He stood up and pulled her off the bed. She only looked disappointed for a minute before she followed him out the door. They stood at the threshold and with mirth dancing in his eyes, Pacey picked her up.

“Mrs. Jones?”

She laughed. “Mr. Jones.”

He walked them across the threshold and she held onto him afraid she would be dropped or her head banged into the door frame. Neither of those things happened and she buried her face into his neck, breathed him in before she kissed him slow and deep. He went to put her down, but she held on, wrapping her legs around his torso, all the while, not breaking the kiss.

He had forgotten how well they kissed each other. He suddenly remembered the time when that was the best part of his day. The way her lips fit on his, the way their tongues found each other after dancing in and out of each other’s mouth. The way she tasted.

The kiss finally broke when Pacey’s legs started to shake with the strain. She licked her kiss-reddened lips and smiled wickedly.

His eyes were smoky and he shook his head slightly. “No more talking.”

“Ever. We should never talk again. Ever.”

He was going to agree, but he found a better use for his mouth. They swayed slowly to the bed, never breaking the kiss as he frantically worked the buttons of her shirt and she did the same with his belt buckle. By the time she was laid down on the bed, her shirt and bra were off—Pacey always prided himself on how fast he could work a bra off—and she was pulling her skirt and panties down while Pacey toed off his shoes, tugged off his sweater and pulled his pants off.

All the while, neither of them took their eyes off each other. The story exchanged through look alone could never be told and yet was fully understood between the two lovers. The rest of the story was told through their bodies intertwining as they studied the landscapes and contours, committing them to memory just in case this was to be their only meeting.

The only words spoken that night and into the dawning morning came from Jen, as Pacey moved inside her slow and deep, and she whispered, “My most loved…” over and over.

For the rest of the weekend, they played the façade of the happily, newly married couple and only left the room for breakfast every morning where they were doted on and given sly looks as they played up their status for all the guests. They fed each other, they held hands throughout the meal and they kissed after almost every bite.

It was the best game of pretend either of them had ever played.

They waited for the drive back up to Boston to discuss the rules and regulations of their relationship. For no matter what else happened, they were, for at least the parameters of their agreement, now in a relationship.

Of sorts.

“I don’t know how to say this without it sounding bad,” Jen started.

“Then just say it. Unless, of course, you want to critique me on my lovemaking style; if that’s the case, please find the nicest way possible.”

She laughed. “Pacey, darling, if you take nothing else away from this weekend, please take this: you are a _phenomenal_ sex partner.”

He beamed. “Right back at ya, sister Christian.”

“So, that being said, and maybe because of it, here’s the thing… I don’t think… well, I don’t think a real relationship, like a boyfriend-girlfriend, or heaven forbid husband-wife relationship is really in our cards. You know?”

Pacey exhaled sharply. “Oh thank god!”

She laughed. “You think so too?”

“I do. I really, really do. I mean, I love you. A lot. But I don’t think we’re good in the long run. I think we both have a bit too many hang ups right now—”

“Yes, in the exact shape and size of two people we both know and love—”

“Exactly, and I don’t think anything good can come from adding a budding everyday romance into the mix,” he finished.

“Besides, I really enjoyed what this weekend was and part of that was because it was _not_ an everyday thing. It was special. I want you to stay special.”

He reached for her hand. “I couldn’t have said it any better.”

“But, I also don’t want it to _never_ happen again. The thought of that is painful to me. So, how can we make it those two things simultaneously?”

He thought for a moment. “Happy Anniversary.”

“What?”

“Every year, no matter where we go, no matter what our lives becomes, who enters them, who leaves them, this weekend every year, we meet back at that same Bed and Breakfast and we play pretend. We forget our life for a weekend.”

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“No matter what happens?”

“No matter what. Or, if that’s too much for you. How about this? I will be there every year on Thanksgiving weekend, and if you don’t come, I know it’s over. No hurt feelings, no bad break up scene, it just didn’t work anymore.”

“And I’ll do the same. If we’re both back then we’ll celebrate our anniversary, if not, the one who returns will celebrate a friendship that lasted as many years as it did and maybe have a drink in honor and then get on with their lives.”

“Sounds good. How could that possibly go wrong?”

Jen slugged him. “Don’t say that! That just doomed us.”

He stopped the car, got out, ran around it three times, spit, got back in and said, “Take backsies.”

She smiled despite herself. “Okay. But seriously, do you think this will actually work?”

“It will work as long as we need it to.”

She reached over and kissed his cheek and he put his arm around her and drove on. When he got to her house an hour later, she kissed him, thanked him for the weekend and said:

“Same time next year.”

“Same time next year,” he answered and drove off.

 

**November 28, 2003**

 

He knocked on the door and was relieved when she opened it. He had seen her only the day before, as she, Jack and Grams had come to Capeside for Thanksgiving with the Leerys. It had been on the tip of his tongue to ask if she needed a ride, or ask how she was getting away, but he hadn’t. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was afraid that she’d tell him that she couldn’t go or that it was against the rules to talk about their time together beforehand. He reasoned instead that if she wanted or needed a ride, she’d approach him. Only she didn’t. So yeah, he was relieved that she was there, opening the door for him.

“Happy Anniversary Mr. Jones,” she said, reaching out for him.

“You too, Mrs. Jones,” he barely got out before she was in his arms, her mouth attacking his.

He allowed the kiss to continue, was powerless to stop it actually, until he was fully through the door and halfway across the room. She had unbuttoned his shirt and pulled off the small amount of clothes that she was wearing, in obvious preparation for the rekindling.

“Hold on. Hold on,” he said, pulling away.

“What? Why?”

“First of all, let me catch my breath. Second of all, hello, how are you?”

“Horny, you?”

“I’m a bit, yes.”

“I’ve been waiting patiently for like three months for this weekend, seriously. There have been so many times in those months that I wanted to call you over, have my way with you. And yesterday, yesterday was torture, just so you know. I wanted you right there on the dining room table.”

“Yeah?” he asked, beaming. “And you didn’t?”

“I couldn’t. The rules must be observed.”

“Or?”

“Chaos, catastrophe, pandemonium.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

She was still tugging at his clothes. “We really can’t. Did you miss me this year?”

“I did.”

She kissed him again but again he stopped her. “Let’s talk about what we want.”

“I think I’m making it painfully obvious what it is I want. What do you want? And if you say this isn’t it…”

“No, this is definitely part of it, but we both know, usually when sex is involved, it’s not the whole story. What else do you want?”

“I want to forget. Forget everyone and everything that’s not me and you and this room,” she got out in between kisses.

“Well, this is a fine room.”

“No it’s not. It’s ridiculous.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Me either,” she agreed. “But tell me, what is it that you want from this weekend?”

“I want to make you happy. I want one weekend where I satisfy the person I’m with using nothing but my very presence… and you know,” he pointed to the bed, “my ample prowess in between the sheets.”

“Well, like I’ve been saying. Let’s fuck.”

“Language, Lindley.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Witter—“

“Jones.”

“Right, I’m sorry Mr. Jones, let’s make _love_ right fuckin’ **now**!”

“Fine. But later, we’re talking.”

“Sure, whatever. Come here.”

He went to her, let her push him onto the bed and let her have her way with him. Repeatedly.

Later, much later, they talked.

“What’s going on with you?” Pacey asked.

“I don’t know. I’m just… _dissatisfied_ , for lack of a better word. I just don’t know what the fuck I am doing anymore. Jack keeps talking about leaving New York, and I know he’s itching to get on with an adult life that doesn’t include us living with my grandmother, but I just don’t know if I’m ready… ready to let him go… ready to go with him in this whole being an adult… thing.”

“Do you think you’ll ever be ready? Do you think you’re more ready to live a life separate from him?”

She shrugged. “I guess someday I’ll have to, right? I mean, I can’t have the security blanket of the Gay Boyfriend forever. Eventually he’ll realize that he’s entitled to a life of his own and then what?”

“You get one of your own?”

She shuddered. “Whatever would that even look like?”

Now he shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t we try it out this weekend? We can play the game of what if.”

She smiled. “Okay. That might mean we have to leave the room though.”

He kissed her as he pulled her to her feet. “But, like normal relationships, at the end of the day, we get to come back here. Maybe even do more of that, because that was fun.”

“Very much so.”

They went down and had breakfast with the rest of the guests and worked on a plan for the rest of the weekend.

“Okay, meet me at the town square in an hour,” Pacey said, pulling a flower out of the vase on the table and handing it to Jen. “Wear this in your hair.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously.

An hour later she sat on a bench under a gazebo and looked around at the multitude of New Englanders doing their early Christmas shopping.

“Excuse me,” she heard a familiar voice say behind her.

“Yes?” she said turning around.

“Are you Daisy?” Pacey asked.

She smiled, instantly playing along. “Sam?”

“Yeah. Hi. You don’t know how relieved I am that you showed up.”

“Had a lot of no-shows have you?”

“More than I like to admit. It’s okay though. After all, if any of the others showed up, I’d have never met you. I can tell already what a shame that would have been.”

“You’ve worked on that line a while, haven’t you?” Daisy asked.

Sam smiled shyly. “Obvious?”

“A bit. But don’t worry, I still found it incredibly charming.”

Sam sighed gratefully. “Would you care to get some coffee? I think there’s a shop on the other side of the square.”

“I would love that,” Daisy answered, getting up and walking beside him.

They made small talk as they made their way to the coffee shop.

“So, what made you put your profile on the dating site,” Sam asked.

“My best friend Jack did it for me. He was tired of me moping around and third wheeling on his dates.”

“Really? I like this guy already.”

“He’d probably like you too. But he’d be out of luck. I found you first.”

“Ah, he’s one of _those_ friends is he?”

She looked at him sideways. “You don’t have a problem with _those_ people, do you?”

“Me? Not at all. My brother is one. Or at least I’m pretty sure he is. He’s just not ready to admit it.”

“Maybe we could introduce them sometime.”

Sam smiled. “Let’s see how we hit it off first.”

“That’s right. How awkward would that be?”

“Extremely. So, tell me about your family.”

She groaned. “Do I have to?”

“That bad?”

“Well, I have a grandmother that I adore and parents that I am slowly making peace with, mainly because we don’t see each other too much. I can’t complain. Or at least I shouldn’t. What about you?”

“Basically I’ve come to terms with my family. I’m the baby, always going to be a bit of a disappointment—“

“Ah, that’s a bit sad.”

“It was. I’ve gotten over it. It helps that I’m not their only disappointment. I have two older sisters and a brother. He’s the only one, so far, who has his life together. He’s the Sheriff of the small town I’m from.”

“Well, according to your profile, you seem to have your life together too. Head chef at Leery’s Fresh Fish, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s still a bit of a crap shoot. But, I enjoy it and can see me enjoying it for at least a few years to come, so that’s good.”

They got to the shop. “How do you take your coffee?” Sam asked.

“Black.”

“Me too,” he agreed.

She studied him. “Really?”

Blushing, he amended, “No, not really. I just read somewhere that on first dates, especially blind ones, you should have as many similarities with your date as possible.”

“And you thought having the same taste in coffee was the way to go? You think we don’t have any other similarities?”

He shrugged. “I admit, it was a pretty lame attempt.”

They got their coffees and found a seat by the window. “I’m sure we agree on a number of important issues,” Daisy started. “Quick, before you think too hard: favorite singer?”

“Freddy Mercury,” he answered.

“Alicia Keyes,” she said. “Favorite band?”

“Jethro Tull.”

“Maroon 5. Favorite movie?”

“Top Gun.”

“Lost in Translation. This is bad. Favorite book?”

“Old Man and the Sea.”

“100 Years of Solitude. Wow. We should probably break up right now.”

“I agree. It’s been fun, but obviously, on the fundamentals, we are miles apart.” He went to stand up.

She grabbed his arm. “Wait. I’m sure we can find something to agree on. Okay, let me think.”

He said back down and tried to hide the smile.

“You obviously like classic rock,” she began. He nodded. “And I have an affinity for women singer/ songwriters. So, tell me, what are your thoughts on Janis Joplin?”

He held his hands to his chest. “Love her.”

Daisy beamed. “See? Now tell me, what’s your passion? What makes you the happiest.”

He thought for a moment. “Well, I like to cook. My favorite thing in the world these days is to get a group of friends and loved ones together and cook for them. What about you?”

Now she thought. “I can burn water. I can, it’s like a talent of mine, but like you, I love to be surrounded by friends and loved ones, having a good time, sharing a laugh, a story… having one of them serve me amazingly prepared food.”

“But what’s your passion?” he asked.

She looked out the window and was silent. “I don’t know. I like people. I want to, I don’t know, _fix_ them, but I’ve been so fucked up myself for so long it seems ridiculous to say.”

“Not at all. I think that makes complete sense. You’ve seen people right? Professional people?”

“This is a bad first date question, isn’t it?”

Sam smiled. “Fuck first date. Game’s over if you really want to talk.”

“Okay. Yes, I’ve seen people professionally.”

“And we can both attest that that C.J. guy was fucked up—shit, you’re not still with him are you?”

She shook her head. “Yes, you’re right. He was fucked up.”

“So, I don’t think it’s a job requirement that you be really of sound mind. And besides, being fucked up in your youth and currently fucked up are two different things. How many times when you were seeing people professionally did you wish they understood your problems more, that they could see through your facades and call you on your shit?”

“All the time.”

“Right? And you’ll be able to do that. I think it’s genius, Jen. Genius. I mean, I’d see you. I have been seeing you since forever. You always see and articulate what my issues are. You call me on them. You’re pretty perfect… is what I’m saying.”

She reached out and took his hand, not able to hide the smile on her face. “Thank you. It means a lot. Really.”

“I mean it. All of it.”

“I love you,” she said, and then blanched, “I mean…”

He squeezed her hand. “I love you too. I always have.”

They left the coffee shop without speaking another word and didn’t leave their room again until it was time to take Jen back to the train station.

“Same time next year?” she whispered.

“Same time next year,” he answered.

 

**November 26, 2004**

 

Pacey was the first one there and he tried not to pace the small room while he waited. And waited.

It had been months since he’d seen Jen. She had come to Capeside to help Jack move when he got the job at Capeside High. They had all gone out for drinks and shared a sly smile when Pacey’s brother Doug showed up, and they did a good job of making sure he and Jack had a lot of alone time together.

Pacey had almost invited Jen back to his place after, but he was terrified of ruining what it was they had. Also, he sensed that maybe she was in a relationship.

He really hoped she’d be here. That the relationship she might or might not have been in didn’t interfere with her coming.

It was an hour later – an hour that felt like days – when he heard the knock on the door.

“Thank god,” he said as he opened the door.

She jumped into his arms. “Happy Anniversary Mr. Jones.”

“Happy Anniversary Mrs. Jones. I’m so glad you made it.”

“Sorry I was late. I decided to walk from the train station. I didn’t realize it was so far away.”

“No worries. You’re here now. Can I take your… where are your bags?”

She bit her lip. “I can’t stay.”

“What?”

“I’m really sorry. I’m heading up to Vermont. I just came to tell you. I didn’t want you to think I wanted these to end. I just can’t this weekend.”

“Why?” Pacey asked with more force than he’d meant. He’d not been this disappointed in a long time.

She blushed. “I met a guy.”

“So? I’ve met girls and I’m still here. That doesn’t have anything to do with what we do here.”

“It doesn’t. Only well… he wants me to meet his parents.”

“And it has to be this weekend?”

“It does. They’re only on the East Coast for this weekend, skiing at Stowe. Pacey, he wants me to meet his parents. _His parents_.”

Pacey tried to swallow his disappointment. He wanted her to be happy, of course he did. And since they weren’t there to make each other happy in the everyday, he couldn’t really deny her this time. Still, he was really looking forward to another of their pretend weekends. He didn’t even want to admit how often his mind had wandered to her and this ridiculous room in the last months.

“Go then,” he said. “I’ll even take you to the train station.”

“Yeah? I don’t have to go for a while. The train isn’t for another six hours. We could talk. I really want to know how you’re doing, what you wanted from this weekend, even if it will just make me feel worse that I won’t be able to give it to you.”

“It’s okay. I’m not sure anyone could give me what I want anymore. I’m not even sure what I want.”

“Pace, I really am sorry.”

“I know. I’ll stop sounding pathetic. Lets go get a drink, a bite to eat, shall we?”

“Sure. Let’s.”

They walked down the tree lined streets of their tiny town holding hands. “What’s going on with you?” she asked.

“I’m thinking of buying the Icehouse and re-opening it.”

She stopped. “Really? That’s great!”

“Is it?”

“Why isn’t it?”

He shrugged and started walking again. “I mean, it’s in Capeside, fuckin’ Capeside. I spent so long trying to escape there, and what that place was to me and there I am, right back. And people come back to visit and they’re so happy to see me but they get to leave again and I’m still there… waiting for them to return.”

“Why are you thinking of opening the restaurant then? Go somewhere else, open a restaurant somewhere else, don’t open a restaurant at all, work in other people’s restaurants. Come to New York, open a hot dog stand.”

He barked a laugh. “What would I do in New York? That town terrifies me. And you’re right, I could go anywhere and work anywhere but… well, I’m sick of working for other people, following what they say about the menu and the décor when I have so many ideas and so many things I’d like to try. And as for why Capeside, I need the capital and there I have backers, my family will help me, friends will pitch in—Bessie and Gail have both offered to invest. But that only happens if I stay in Capeside.”

“Okay, then Capeside. Take away growing up there, what about Capeside do you not like? Don’t like how it’s on the water? Don’t like how it’s small town but not _too_ small that it’s backwards? Don’t like that the people are relatively nice?”

Pacey shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess if I can forget that the whole town at one time or another had written me off as a failure and a joke, and that it’s inhabited by a family that as supportive as they’re being, are still waiting for me to disappoint them further, then I might be able to be happy there. But those are a bunch of colossal ifs.”

“Oh my god, Pacey, just think of how delicious it’s going to be though, when you get to rub it in their face how successful you are and how on top of things you are! I think I need to almost _insist_ that you stay in Capeside and open that restaurant.”

He smiled and swung their arms wide for a few steps. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

There were a few moments of silence before Pacey said, “So, tell me about this guy.”

Jen’s eyes sparkled for a moment before they clouded over. “I shouldn’t. It has to be against some sort of rule of our anniversary weekends.”

“Well, since the weekend is shot anyway, why not break a rule or two.”

“Okay. But I want it officially understood that I was fully intent on coming here and playing our game of pretend as we spent the weekend in bed, even with this very grown-up relationship I’m currently engaged in. Because this weekend isn’t about the outside world and I’m as disappointed as you that real life has impeded it as it has.”

“I’m sure you’re not _quite_ as disappointed. I mean, after all, you’re going to leave me today, get on that train and get into Vermont just in time to have lots and lots of sex. Whereas I am going to spend a long, lonely night in the honeymoon suite and try to avoid the odd, questioning looks from the other guests the next morning at breakfast.”

“Oh, Pacey, you’re making me feel so bad.”

“Good. My plan is working.”

She slugged him. “Would it work if we scheduled this… thing of ours… for another weekend?”

“I don’t think we can. I think that would be cheating, on many levels.”

She looked at him sadly. “I really am sorry.” 

“I know. But you’ll make it up to me next year? Even if this thing works out? And I hope that it does, don’t get me wrong.”

“Yes. I will absolutely make it up to you next year.”

 

**November 25, 2005**

 

Pacey again found himself pacing the floorboards of the newlywed suite. This time, however, it was short lived before there was a strong knock. Moments after he flung the door open, Jen flung herself into his arms.

“I missed you so much, Mr. Jones,” she said in between kisses.

“You have no idea, Mrs. Jones!” he returned, picking her up and walking backwards into the room.

He got them to the bed and unceremoniously heaved her onto it. Standing over her, he thought he could read the answer, but had to ask anyway—it was after all, protocol. “What do you want from this weekend?”

“You. Nothing but you.”

He smiled wickedly. “You don’t know how very happy I am to hear that.”

“What do you want?”

He reached for her leg, pulled it up, removed her shoe and kissed the curve of her instep. “You. Just you.”

She moaned as he kissed his way up her leg. There was no more small talk, no more games of pretend, not that night. 

Her panties, already wet, were removed slowly and delicately before he pushed her legs apart. She ran her hand down her own abdomen and twinned her fingers in his as they rubbed in slow lazy circles around her center. With his other hand he spread her labia and nuzzled his nose along the slit before his tongue darted out for a taste.

Like his tongue was an electric charge reminding her she was alive, she threw her head back and arched her back. Spreading her legs farther, she granted more access to the most sensitive of her spots that Pacey found like he knew it by heart.

The low rumble that started in Jen’s throat when he dove his tongue and swirled became louder with an attempt of actual words by the time he swiped his tongue repeatedly along her clitoris.

“Paaaaaaceeeeeeey, don’t…. don’t…. oh my…. oh…”

With her hands clinched tightly in his hair, she came. The pain of his follicles practically being ripped from his head, sent a surge through his body and with it, almost a _need_ to punish. He continued to lap at her pulsing clit, almost milking it of sensations. Again he drove her to the cusp of release before he stood up, pulled his pants, underwear and shirt off and climbed on top of her. Not taking his eyes off her euphoric gaze, he slowly pushed himself fully and deeply inside of her. She shuddered as she wrapped her legs tightly around him and brought her arms up under his armpits, pulling him to her, as if having him sliding in and out of her wasn’t close enough, as if she needed every single particle of him.

She panted into his ear endearments, curses and very, very dirty things as he rode her slowly and then with harder and faster thrusts until she was begging and he was almost crying with the need to release.

“My most loved… most loved… most loved,” she recited over and over as he closed his eyes, his senses overloading. There were sparks like a synapse had exploded and at the same time, he came, panting into her sweat-streaked neck.

“Man I love you…” he whispered, in one long breath.

She held him close as he slid out and off her and settled alongside her. “The longest, the strongest, the most…” she whispered back before they both fell asleep, still neither of them letting the other go.

The next morning Pacey woke up to Jen glaring at him. He blinked, thinking he was perhaps dreaming. Nope, still there, still glaring. He blinked again, racking his mind for something he might have said or done. Unless he said something in his sleep, he couldn’t think of anything.

“What?” he finally asked.

“You’re a little shit. You know that?”

“In my defense, I do know that. Why this time?”

“I was supposed to make it up to you. I was supposed to be the one…”

“Who what? We were both there; we both did our fair share.”

“Liar.”

Now that he knew this wasn’t a true disagreement, he smiled and pulled her into an embrace. “Well, it’s a long weekend; you’ll have plenty of time to work off the debt you owe from last year’s dismal showing.”

She grabbed his ass. “You are going to be so well and thoroughly fucked, you won’t even remember there was a last year.”

He flung his leg over hers. “I love when you talk sweet to me.”

***

Later, much later, they talked.

“So, how’s the Icehouse?” she asked, curling into his side.

“Good. It’s a bit rough around the edges, but it’s getting there. Of course my parents seem to think it’s their own personal kitchen now, but what are ya gonna do?”

“So they helped you out with the financing?”

“Yeah. Still hard to believe. My father, _mine_ , cashed in his retirement savings.”

“Wow. That’s a big deal. Doesn’t sound like he’s expecting you to fail anymore, now does it?”

Pacey paused for a moment. “I guess not. At least I hope not. That would say more about him than me. Basically though, things are good with us. He feels he’s connected to me and sadly, he thinks he owns a bit of the restaurant so he’s always there.”

“Ah, but has it been horrific?”

“Not really. I thought it would be at first. But either he’s mellowed or I have and we don’t butt heads too often. He doesn’t touch the menu which is the part I’m most concerned with.”

“That’s good. Making peace with your past. I’m proud of you, Pacey.”

“Thanks. What about you? Still with Vermont Guy?”

“Yeah,” she said and it took her a moment to continue. “Is it okay to talk about this? I mean, here?”

“You think I’m going to get jealous? You think you’re going to feel guilty?”

She just looked up at him. He went on. “Okay, maybe a bit of those things are true. But I also don’t want to imagine that there would be anything the two of us couldn’t talk about. Even if it is the other people we share beds with. I mean, between the two of us, we’ve shared beds with an alarming amount of the same small circle. It would actually be nice to hear about someone I don’t know.”

“Someone who also hasn’t had sex with every woman you’ve ever loved.”

“Yep. Just you.”

She sighed and held him close. “Okay. He’s good. Better than good. He believes in me, he rescues me from myself when I get too down on myself and sometimes I feel like I’d be lost without him.”

“Was it hard coming up here this weekend? I mean, this is the first time since we’ve started that either of us has been in a relationship that we considered serious.”

She was swirling a tiny bit of Pacey’s chest hair and for a long time, he wasn’t sure if she would answer. Finally she began. “I almost wish that it was harder than it was to come up here. Sometimes I think I come up here for the same reasons I did that very first time and I wonder if I’ll ever have a life that I don’t want to escape from time to time.”

“I think it’s natural—at least I hope it is—to want to get away from your life from time to time. Most people just don’t get the chance, or take the chance. I can’t imagine what I would do if I didn’t have these.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find someone else to seduce at least once a year. For all I know, you have a date like this every weekend.”

He understood her tone was joking, but he turned to face her and was not even joking a bit. “This is the best weekend of my whole year. Part of that is because it is special and doesn’t happen for me any other time. _Ever._ The other reason, the more important reason is you. I wouldn’t want this with anyone else. It wouldn’t make sense with anyone else.”

She smiled and moved her face so that they were inches from kissing, but instead she stroked her nose against his before bending her head so his lips rested on her forehead. “I feel the same,” she whispered. “So many times during the years I wondered why we thought we wouldn’t work in the everyday. I mean, I love Vermont Guy, I do, but sometimes I don’t think I’m ever going to reach the level of intimacy, the level of trust with anyone else that I have with you.”

“We are the stupidest people to ever live.”

She pulled her head back to look at him. He ran his fingers up her arm, and gently around her throat, stroking the curve of her chin with his thumb as he continued. “We have horrible timing, horrible past experiences with people who formed our beliefs in ourselves and our capacities to love. I adore our friends, our old lovers, I do, but come on. You know we would have been happily married for real if we had moved past them long ago.”

“I guess so,” she agreed. “That’s the best thing about Vermont Guy really, he’s new, he’s fresh and he doesn’t know all my baggage, so I don’t have to shape my responses to him on them.”

“Vermont Guy sounds like a keeper.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I’ll keep him around.”

Pacey’s sigh was bittersweet but he smiled slowly. “Good. You being happy is the most important thing, really.”

“He does make me happy. You also make me happy and this weekend makes me downright giddy.”

They kissed again and decided to skip breakfast…and lunch.

 

**November 24, 2006**

 

The year flew by and as Pacey made his way back to their oasis, he reflected with a bit of surprise that it had been a whole year since he’d even so much as talked to Jen. The years previous, they’d talk or see each other in the circles they frequented. Dawson would come back to Capeside and they’d all meet up, or he and Jack would drive down to New York for a day and they’d end up with Jen and sometimes Joey for drinks.

But this year, they had all been so busy with their own separate lives. He’d assumed she was happy, Jack had not told him any different, neither had she. Still, it was weird that they hadn’t talked at all.

Maybe that was the reason he was nervous about her not showing up, or maybe he still held some residual disappointment of the year she bailed on him. He didn’t know, but he took his time getting there, deciding he didn’t want to be there first.

And yet, when he turned up an hour late—after all, he didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily—he was surprised to see she hadn’t checked in yet. Three hours later and he was past surprised, past concerned and right on the cusp of angry.

He was about to call her when he remembered the pact they had made in the very beginning: _If we’re both back then we’ll celebrate our anniversary, if not, the one who returns will celebrate a friendship that lasted as many years as it did and maybe have a drink in honor and then get on with their lives._

“Fuck that,” he exclaimed to no one, and instead of grabbing his phone, he grabbed his keys.

Six hours later and after an immeasurable amount of F-bombs directed at the stupid Massachusettes, Rhode Island, Connecticut and New York drivers, he arrived at Jen’s place. Or at least the last place he knew for sure she had lived. He hoped she still did, or he was screwed. He was not in the right frame of mind to track down Grams and grill her.

He pounded on the door, hoping that Vermont Guy—or anyone else really—didn’t answer. It wasn’t late enough to worry about waking anyone, not in New York City. He waited for what felt like hours and was about to pound on the door even louder when he heard the locks being worked. All but the chain, because when Jen opened the door, she peeked through the sliver allowed by it.

She looked horrible, but not overly surprised to see him there. “You broke the rule.”

“It was a stupid rule.”

“We seem to corner the market on stupid, don’t we?”

“Can you let me in? Or are you busy? Not alone?”

“Yes, I’m alone. Sort of. And I can let you in, but I’d rather not.”

“Jen, what’s going on?”

She sighed. Slowly and with obvious reluctance, she unlatched and opened the door.

Pacey just stared at her and her very, very large belly.

“Go ahead, quickly do the math in your head and realize it can’t possibly be yours and get the sigh of relief out.”

He didn’t sigh, but he did blush. He couldn’t help it; it was a natural instinct for any man when faced with any woman he’d ever had sex with. It wasn’t logical and he knew it, but still, he had done it.

“Of course it isn’t. But, my God, Jen,” he said, rushing to take her in his arms. “You’re going to be a mom. This is _huge_!”

“Yes, and so am I.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? How far along are you?”

She motioned for him to come into the apartment proper. “A little over 6 months. I haven’t really told anyone. I mean Jack knows of course, but—”

“Jack knows? Why didn’t _he_ tell me?”

“I asked him not to tell anyone.”

“Why?” he asked, part hurt, part concerned.

She shrugged and lowered herself gently onto the L- shaped couch. Pacey reached out to help her, but stopped himself before he touched her. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed. She curled her legs up as well as she could before answering, “It’s all been so overwhelming and I’ve just been dealing with a lot. I had been close to calling you, telling you, but I always told myself, ‘Don’t be pathetic. Wait until it all gets sorted.’ And well, I never stopped feeling pathetic and it never really got sorted.”

“The father?” he whispered.

She nodded and tears brimmed but refused to spill.

“Vermont Guy?”

She nodded again. “His name was Marcus.”

“Was? Did he…?”

She barked an anxious laugh. “God, I wish. No, I’m sorry. He didn’t die. He just… he just left.”

Pacey’s blood boiled and he growled, “When?”

“Mentally? A long time ago. Physically, only a short while.”

Pacey was going to ask a million more questions, the biggest being where this guy was and how could he find him. But, instead, he waited for Jen to continue.

“It had been a shock. For both of us. I’m not saying I wasn’t freaked out as well. We had a plan, a beautiful plan. After he finished grad school we would get married. We would move to Aspen and he would run his father’s business. After we were established and he had made his first million or whatever, we would have our 2.5 children. It was a glorious plan.”

Pacey again held his tongue.

“So, at first, I totally understood his freak out. I had a bit of one myself, so of course I understood. Only… well, it never really stopped. It manifested itself in different ways, but it was always under the skin of every conversation we had, every decision we pretended to make. Finally, about two weeks ago, it turned ugly.”

“Did he…?”

“No. Not that sort of ugly. He just sort of… sort of turned into another person; avoiding me, staying out at night, sometimes making lame excuses, sometimes not even affording that consideration. Then he started coming home smelling of cheap perfume and cheaper alcohol.”

“The Coward’s Escape Plan,” Pacey growled despite his determination to listen to the story without comment. She looked at him curiously so he elaborated, “It’s how weak men try and end things without having to have the conversation.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, that was it exactly. He was itching for me to throw him out. But, I guess I was weaker and one of us had to give. He found an even easier and more cowardly way to leave.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, picking at the quilt she had thrown over her legs, “The ol’ disappearing act; the Going Out for Milk and Cigarettes ruse.”

Pacey sat there stunned for a full minute before he said, “Okay, first things first, you are _not_ pathetic. You are in a situation that wasn’t planned and have had to deal with something that would have fuckin’ broken a weaker person, but neither of those things makes you pathetic.”

He stood up and began pacing. “Second, no offense to you or Douchebag, but that plan of yours, it isn’t you. That perfect, idyllic 2.5 children in the suburbs of Pukeville, living his happy homemaker life, it isn’t you. You’re not like that, wouldn’t be happy living that and you know it.”

Now she was crying. Large, fat tears fell down her cheeks and she didn’t even wipe them away or seem to notice them at all. But Pacey did.

Getting on his knees in front of her, taking her hands in his, he began again, softer this time, “Honey, you were created for so much more. This child you’re carrying was created for so much more. I hate this guy for many reasons, but mostly—right now—for convincing you those things aren’t true.”

“I just… I don’t know…”

“What to do?” he finished. “You’re having a baby, that’s all you have to do. All you have to know. We’ll get through all the other shit.”

“We will?”

“Yes. We will.”

“Pacey, I can’t… I mean, of course you will. You are the consummate romantic hero type, but I could _never_ accept--”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupted, getting up and sitting next to her, situating them so that he was behind her, her back pulled into his chest by his arms wrapped around her. This was so that he could get as close to her ear so that she couldn’t mishear him, and also, he had to admit to himself, so that he didn’t have to look at her, at her doubt and— even more terrifying—her rejection. “I don’t mean to cut you off, and I will listen to all your arguments in a minute, but please, first, let me say something, okay?”

She nodded, so he continued before she changed her mind. “Do you know why I broke the rules? Why I drove through hellish New England traffic to get to you tonight? It was for me. It wasn’t to save you. It was to save myself. When you didn’t show, when I thought you were ending things with me… well, it made me examine my life and your place in it and the idea of that being over was unacceptable to me. The absence of you made me realize that I’m tired of this yearly ridiculous pact of ours. It’s not enough. I came here to admit I’m greedy and I want more. “

He could feel from the weight of her body that she wanted to believe him, wanted to believe they could be more despite everything. But then she tensed again. “Yeah, but that was before…”

“Before I realized just how much more?” he asked, running his hands over her bulged belly.

She elbowed him and he laughed. “I meant the baby!”

“But, as I’ve learned,” she began, “a baby changes everything.”

He held her tight again, almost challenging her to pull away. “And as I’ve been trying to say, I’m ready for everything to change. I’m ready for more. If you are.”

Again he felt her struggle through her body pressed against his. After the longest minute of his life, he felt her relent a bit, not give in to him entirely—he’d probably never get that, and honestly he wouldn’t want it any other way—but to contemplate and perhaps negotiate. 

“Really?” she whispered.

“Absolutely,” he answered, enthusiastically.

“How would this even work? How would we even start this?” she asked.

He smiled wide into her neck and he felt the goose bumps along her shoulders and arms. “We’ll start it like we always have,” he said. And instead of the usual _tell me what you want from this weekend_ , he amended, “Tell me what you want from this life?”

She twined her fingers through his as they continued to rub their fingers across the perfect expanse of life and all its possibilities. 

“Everything,” she whispered.

The End…


End file.
